Convenient Arrangements
Anora frowned when Erlina dropped the hairbrush for the third time. "What's the matter, Erlina? Are you upset about something?"
The maid sighed. "I am sorry, your Majesty. It's just... something I learned today, from Suze, the chambermaid. She heard it from Devon. I don't exactly know how to tell you."
Devon. Anora's ears pricked up at the name. Percival's personal manservant. Not usually all that forthcoming with information, so this probably meant Percival wanted her to know.
She sighed. Ever since Dane's birth two years ago, the distance between them had grown. The pregnancy had been difficult, and the healers had advised against him touching her until the child was born. Afterwards... Percival was still exquisitely polite and considerate in their everyday dealings. But his nights were spent elsewhere, and there were no more fiery glances in her direction. Erlina kept her informed of his occasional amorous dalliances, but there hadn't been anything serious, not up to now.
"What did Devon say?"
"Your husband... he intends to take a mistress. That Davenport girl, Marie, you know, the pretty dark-haired one." Erlina's lips pursed up in disapproval. "Salaud! How can he do this to you after all you've been through with King Cailan and his-"
Anora cut her off with a quick gesture. "Enough, Erlina. Percival is nothing like Cailan." She bit her lip hard. "I'm no foolish young girl. The problem with Cailan wasn't that he had other women. We both knew ours wasn't a romantic love match, and I never expected him to remain faithful. No." Her face hardened. "The problem with Cailan was his utter failure to take responsibility for anything, from the government of his kingdom to our marriage. His lack of respect for me, too. Percival is different."
Erlina snorted. "All men are alike, milady, at least once they start thinking with their other head."
Anora shook her head. "I need to talk to him. I'm sure we can come to a reasonable arrangement."
Percival wasn't surprised when Anora asked him for a word in private. He had counted on Erlina to inform her about his plans. He didn't like the Orlesian maid, but he rather admired the efficiency of her spy network.
Looking at his wife, seated opposite him in a fine antique armchair in her suite, he tried to analyze his feelings, to make sure he wouldn't be swayed by emotions. Anora was beautiful, efficient, competent. They still worked well together, their strengths complementing each other for the good of the kingdom. He knew he needed her to reign, and she needed him. There had been a time when he had hoped for much more than this, but this hope had died the night he had discovered her betrayal.
He sighed. Not that it had been completely unexpected. He had known she could be ruthless when he'd married her. And if he was honest, the outcome of her actions had been beneficial to them all. Dane was a fine, healthy boy, whose charm had the whole court captivated. And the common people worshipped Anora, now that the succession was secure. Arl Eamon had grudgingly retired to Redcliffe, his intrigues thwarted for the time being.
"Anora." Percival inclined his head politely toward her. "What is it you want to talk about?"
She was nervous, judging by the trembling of her hands, but her voice was calm and clear. For an instant, he was gripped by the same sincere admiration that had made him court her in the first place. My Queen.
"It has come to my attention that you intend to make Marie Davenport your official mistress." She waited for him to nod before she went on. "A wise course of action, it seems to me. I'd much rather you restrict your attentions to just one girl, and from what I hear she is unlikely to cause any trouble."
He smiled coldly. "Oh yes, Marie is a sweet girl. Not the brightest perhaps, but gentle and loving. No need to worry about her, my dear. She won't be bothering you. And of course I had planned on informing you of my intentions before I take any steps to make it official."
Anora nodded. "I do understand that you have... needs. You haven't come to my bed in a long time."
She didn't ask why, but he could see how much effort even that terse statement had cost her. For a moment he was tempted to cross the distance between them, to take her in his arms and kiss her like he had on their first night together. But then he remembered. Anora writhing in Fergus' embrace, her face alight with bliss, her pale skin flushed with arousal.
His lips pressed together in a thin line. "What would be the point, Anora? We have our heir, and it would be silly to pretend there ever was another reason for us to share a bed."
This time there was no mistaking the brief flash of pain crossing her features. The momentary triumph he felt immediately turned into a hollow feeling of loss, though. Instinctively he reached out for her, but she had already risen and walked over toward the window, gazing out with unseeing eyes.
"As you wish. Anyway, I trust you will handle this with decency, and above all, make sure there won't be any children born from this... union. We don't want to endanger Dane's position when the time comes for him to inherit the throne."
Percival exhaled sharply. "Well, it's not as if that is likely to happen, is it?" He hardly recognized his own voice, strangled and breaking on the last words.
Anora whirled back around just in time to see his face, during that brief unguarded moment. Her hand went up to her throat and she swallowed hard.
"How long have you known?" The words escaped her lips before she could help it.
Percival's lips turned up in a sneer. "All the time. I saw you with him when-" He broke off. "It doesn't matter, Anora. Not anymore."
"Percival, please." For an instant, her eyes were full of naked emotion. "You don't know what it was like with Cailan, the insults, the accusations. When a year had gone by, I panicked. Please understand, I couldn't..."
"I do understand." His tone was cool, his face implacable. "You did what you thought was necessary. I just..." He faltered briefly. "I just expected more of Fergus."
His brother had retired to Highever soon after Dane's birth. Last year he had remarried, a pretty young girl from the Bannorn who had given him a daughter already. He hardly ever came to Denerim nowadays. Other councillors had replaced him, but no one Percival could trust as much as he had his own blood.
Anora sighed, passing her hand in front of her eyes. "Don't blame Fergus, Percival. It was my idea, all of it. He only agreed because he genuinely wanted to help you."
"Yes, no doubt that is what he told himself." Percival's sardonic smile held no hint of warmth.
Anora closed her eyes. "I never wanted this to happen, Percival. I wish it could have been different."
He nodded, his serene mask firmly in place again. "So do I, believe me. Is there anything else you wish to discuss, my dear?"
Anora opened her mouth to speak, but then she shook her head. Silently she accepted his deep bow and watched him leave the room.
Percival rolled off Marie's warm, willing body and lay back contentedly, allowing himself a brief smile at the sight of her happy, sated face. She might not be a match for him intellectually, but her enthusiasm in bed was hard to resist. He ran his hand appreciatively over her curvy hip, before slapping her briefly, indicating that he wanted her to leave. She took the hint, compliant as always, grabbing her clothes and withdrawing to her room without a word of protest.
Most nights he let her stay and warm his bed after he had taken his pleasure from her, but tonight he needed time to think. The conversation with Anora had shaken him more than he cared to admit. He hadn't planned to let her know he had seen through her charade. It had always seemed more politic to keep that knowledge to himself and save it for an occasion when he might need it to keep her in check. But today he had slipped and let her see how much she had hurt him.
Percival bit his lip. Damn Anora! He had to hand it to her - she still knew how to get to him. The way she'd handled the situation had been nothing short of amazing. Thinking of her cool blue eyes, of the steely determination in her look and the way she'd held herself upright, proud and unflinching, he felt a shudder run through his body.
For the first time in two years, he seriously contemplated walking over to her suite, like he used to do, to take her into his arms and make love to her, break that icy composure. He made a face when he realized what he was considering. Facing Anora, fresh from his mistress's embrace, Marie's scent still clinging to him. No. Not a good idea. And yet... the thought of those long white legs wrapped around his body, the memory of Anora's haughty features turning soft as he made her cry out in pleasure, affected him enough that he regretted sending Marie away so soon.
With a sigh, he got up and wandered over to his desk, looking for something suitably dry to take his mind off his current predicament. It was fortunate, really, that there was always some administrative business that needed attending.
When Percival entered the nursery the next morning, Dane smiled up at him, a hopeful expression on his chubby little face.
"Papa! Up!" The boy stretched his arms towards him, and Percival scooped him up with a low chuckle, brushing a lock of thick, dark hair back from his forehead.
Dane looked so much like him. No one at court had ever questioned his parentage. He was a bright, sweet little boy who loved to cuddle with his nanny and basked in his parents' attention during their frequent visits. Anora took good care of the child's upbringing. His attendants were chosen with the utmost care and he lacked for nothing. And the queen herself was gentle and loving with her son, if not overly demonstrative in her affections.
He kissed the soft pink cheek. "What are your plans for today, son?"
Listening to the child's excited chatter with a smile, he felt a painful sting at the realization that Dane was all he would ever have. Well, except for the child Morrigan had conceived that night, more than three years ago. Yet the witch was gone, disappeared the morning after she'd lain with him, and he would never know his child, couldn't even be sure they were alive.
Dane, on the other hand... His grip on the boy tightened, so much so that he started to squirm and wiggle out of his arms. Percival followed Dane with his gaze as he ran over to get a toy from the shelf. You're my son, no matter what your mother did. The feeling was so intense he had to force back the tears welling up in his eyes. My son. My heir. The first Cousland to sit on Ferelden's throne. That's all that counts.
Hugs and thanks to ShebasDawn for her help with this!
